


When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know

by zarabithia



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Nightmares, Past Underage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Years later, bad dreams still haunt Soren. Waking up with Callum in his bed helps with those dreams, undoubtedly.





	When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac.

It’s been years, of course, but Soren still has nightmares.

In his dreams, the words _/stab/_ and _/do the right thing/_ repeat on constant loop. In his dreams, his sword doesn’t stop, and neither do Ezran and Rayla’s screams.

In his dreams, Callum’s blood spills onto the ground, the red darkening to match the color of his coat.

In his dreams, Callum’s fingers grasp at his own throat, his voice taken by Soren’s sword just the way that Soren’s father had done, only days before.

Soren awakes with a voiceless shout of his own, to find that it has been years instead of days that have passed since his father sent him to kill the princes. And when he awakens, Callum’s hand is resting firmly on Soren’s shoulder.

Soren tries to remember ever thinking Callum was weak, beause it is Callum’s strength that he clings to on a morning in which the sun has yet to greet the sky.

“Same one?” Callum asks.

Soren looks at his lover’s throat, clean and free of any scars from Soren’s sword, before he answers.

“Yeah. Well, you know dear old Dad and they way his terrible plans haunt everyone for years to come,” Soren says, with a forced lightness in his throat.

“Pretty good joke,” Callum tells him.

“Really?”

“Sure! So good Rayla might even like it,” Callum offers. “If we go now, we might find her and Ezran mounting their sneak attack on the jelly tarts. You can tell her, we can all laugh, and we can all steal jelly tarts.”

“Devious,” Soren says. “Sure you aren’t turning evil mage on me, too?”

He doesn’t think so. Not really. At least, most of the time.

At least, that’s not his dream tonight. But magic is a thing that has taken much from Soren, and sometimes, he needs to be sure that they can joke about it.

Callum has always been good, but so much has changed. The cheeks no longer have a shred of baby fat, and though he is thin compared to Soren’s knight form, the scrawniness of the shy, uncertain teenager fumbling around after sparring practice is gone.

“Nah,” Callum says. “Not yet.”

Soren laughs brokenly, but it’s enough. It’s more than he can do after some dreams, anyway.

“So, jelly tarts?” he says, getting out of bed.

“Unless you can think of a better way to spend the morning,” Callum answers, not quite getting out of bed. The suggestion is loud and clear, even without the obscene way that Callum leans back onto the sheets and raises his brows at him.

Want rolls through him at the suggestion, but he’s not ready for that. Some mornings he is; those mornings have him reaching for Callum immediately to get rid of the last lingering visions of his dreams. 

But this morning, he needs some space between his dreams and the life they actually have together. 

“Jelly tarts first,” Soren decides. “Then I get to ravage you as the sun comes up.”

“Well, I’m glad to know where I rank in your priorities,” Callum says with mock offense in his voice.

“You’ll need the fuel for later,” Soren retorts. “Trust me on that, my dear prince.”

“I always trust you, Soren.”

Callum stands and turns then, to get dressed, and he cannot see the effect his words have on Soren.


End file.
